Badland Bride (22 page)
He shut the door behind them and before she had a chance to take another step, he tugged on her hand, twisting her back toward him. His hands pulled her close, and his mouth covered hers with slow, easy delight.
Her mind went blank for a split second before it became engrossed in his taste, smell, and touch. Time stopped and flew at the same time. The next thing she knew they were on the downy-soft feather tick, their clothes left a trail from the door to the edge of the bed, and her body sang with the joy and pleasure of his sensual, thorough lovemaking.
The bright, red hues of the new day peeked through the window, filled the room with an innocence of hope he could relate to. Skeeter eased his arms from Lila's sleeping form. He was renewed, ready to face the day fate was descending upon them. As long as he had her, he had the world, and could survive anything thrown his way. He leaned down, placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. Together they
would
survive anything, everything. Silently, he flipped her discarded clothes over the foot of the bed. Then retrieved his, stepped into the britches, and carried the rest to the door.
Glancing back to her sleeping form basking in the early morning glow, his mind kicked in. He'd have to tell her about Hawkins. Didn't want to, but would have to. His gaze darted around the room, bounced off the big headboard, across the tall chest of drawers, and large ladies closet he'd ordered, and finally landed on the curtains and quilted covering his mother had made. It was a spectacular room. Almost seemed impossible it was his. Damn, he was going to miss it all when they left for the future. Going to miss his family, the wide open land, the discovery of bones, he'd even miss Buffalo Killer and his tribe.
She twisted, buried her face deeper into his pillow. A smile grew on his face. The simple pleasure of holding her close was worth leaving it all behind. He'd gladly follow her to the end of the earth without a single regret.
He spun around, pulled open the door. There were just a few things he needed to take care of. After he'd settled the score for Bug's attack, he'd start digging on the tunnel. Closing the door behind him, he caught Kid's gaze as his older brother walked toward the door to Bug's room. Kid paused, waited for him to slip into his shirt, tug on his socks and boots, before opening the door.
They stepped in, looked expectantly toward the bed, and then glanced to their mother sitting in the chair no more than a foot from the edge of the bed. She shook her head. “No change. He's still out like a stump. But he's breathing and got a good pulse."
Skeeter walked to her side, wrapped an arm around her slender shoulders. The woman acted as if she was as solid as rock and as tough as nails, but deep down she was as gentle as a kitten. His new wife had taught him that too. Loving Lila allowed him to realize how much he cared for the other people in his life. He kissed Ma's gray hair. “Did you get any sleep?"
She ran the heel of her hand over both eyes. “Yeah, I dozed."
The door cracked open. Willamina poked her head in before pushing the wood wider to step in. “Hog has coffee going, why don't ya'll go down? I'll sit with him for awhile."
Ma started to protest, but Skeeter took her hand. “Come on. He'll be fine for a few minutes. Come have something to eat."
She turned to Willamina. “You'll holler?"
The old woman nodded, smiled. “Like a jackal."
Ma, straightening her dress as she went, walked out of the room ahead of him. She paused in the doorway, turned around. Her gaze settled on the bed, on Bug's pale, still shape. “I love all of you boys. Everyone one of you is a right fine man.” Tired, red-rimmed eyes glanced between him and Kid. “But-but Bug's my baby.” Tears started to flow down her aged-soft cheeks. “He's my baby."
"Aw, Ma.” The words burned his throat as he wrapped his arms around her.
Her small body shivered as she wept against his chest.
It was a first. He couldn't ever remember his mother crying. It tore at his heart, but hardened every muscle at the same time. “Bug's going to be all right. Just give him a day or two to heal.” His gaze met Kid's.
Water was welled in the bottom of his brother's dark eyes, and his nostrils flared with each breath. Kid bit his lips together and gave a slight nod. The pensive, stiff movements said his older brother felt exactly as he did.
"And we'll find who did this, Ma. We promise, we'll find them,” Skeeter vowed.
Ma twisted her head, wiped her nose on the sleeve of her dress then nodded. “I know you will.” She straightened her back, and as stiff as a door she walked toward the stairs. “That son-of-a-bitch chose the wrong family to mess with."
He couldn't control the slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and was relieved when the same grin covered Kid's face. His brother slapped his back as they followed their mother's stomping feet down the curved staircase.
Snake, tall and willowy, and looking as determined as Skeeter felt, met them at the bottom of the stairs. “Buffalo Killer's here."
"Already?” Skeeter glanced toward the front door.
"Yup, he won't come in."
"I'll go talk to him."
"Good luck with that.” Snake's gaze went to the door.
"Why do you say that?"
"There's no carrying on a conversation with the guy. I tried yesterday. He doesn't say more than two words at a time."
He slapped Snake's shoulder. “Indians are men of few words."
"I figured that out.” Snake nodded. “Hey, did you know they call you Bone Hunter?"
"Yeah, they have for some time now."
"I should become friends with them. Any name would be better than Snake."
A rough laugh came from the kitchen. “Oh yeah? Try Hog for a while.” The white apron tied around Hog's broad chest added to the humor glinting in his eyes.
"You boys quit frettin’ ‘bout your names. Your Papa gave you those names, and you should wear them proudly.” Their mother insisted as she took a chair at the table, wrapping both hands around a cup of coffee wafting steam.
Skeeter chuckled and moved toward the front door. His brothers wouldn't get anywhere trying to insist being called by their given names of Scott and Howard. Their dad had given them all nicknames shortly after birth, and since his death going on ten years ago, their mother refused to let them go by their given names. As his hand settled on the doorknob, the squabbles continued from the kitchen, and his gaze went to the second floor, where Brett, nicknamed Bug, still struggled to survive. A tinge of guilt stung his chest. It would hurt them all when he and Lila left for the future.
He shook off the thought, placed it in the back of his mind, and pulled open the door. Buffalo Killer had braided several long, white feathers amongst his long strands of black hair. The wind whipped them about as the brave stood proudly in the middle of the yard.
Skeeter raised a hand in greeting. Buffalo Killer lifted the rifle braced across his chest and thrust it high in the air. There were few Indians left on the plains, and most of the ranch hands and diggers who'd spent the night had gathered near the barn door to gaze at the brave. Skeeter nodded a greeting to them as he walked to the center of the yard.
"You want scalp?” Buffalo Killer asked in an overly loud voice.
Skeeter all but stumbled to a halt. “What?"
"You want scalp?"
A slight twinkle sparkled in the brave's black eyes. Skeeter glanced at the painted pony. Nothing out of the ordinary hung from its mane. He forced a grin to stay at bay. “Who are you trying to scare? You didn't scalp anyone.” He kept his voice low.
Buffalo Killer shrugged, but his eyes glanced left, toward the barn.
"No you keep it,” Skeeter said in a loud voice, keenly understanding how important it was for Buffalo Killer to appear frightful. The brave wasn't arrogant or conceited, but proud to be who he was, and Skeeter didn't mind helping the man keep the over exaggerated tales of the Sioux alive.
The men eased back into the barn, but their gazes stayed on the yard. Buffalo Killer smiled, nodded.
Skeeter shook his head in disbelief. The brave never ceased to amaze him. “Now that they are all scared shitless, you want to tell me what you found?"
Buffalo Killer chuckled, clearly amused with himself. Then his face became serious, a steely gaze filled his eyes. “The man."
"Where? Where is he?"
"Staked. Guarded."
He clenched his fist, holding in the want to tell the man to spit it out. “Where?"
"Near bone site."
"Who is he?"
"Not from future."
Shit!
He'd hoped they'd found Hawkins. “One of the diggers?"
Buffalo Killer gave a single head nod.
"Any sign of the other man? The one from the future."
The brave shrugged.
"Are your men still looking?"
Another single head nod was his only answer.
"All right. We'll have some breakfast and then ride out to your camp. See who this man is."
Buffalo Killer stared at the house.
Skeeter knew his interest was piqued. “Will you come in? Eat with us?"
A scowl formed over the brave's dark eyes.
He twisted, glanced toward the house. Lila, in a shimmering gold dress walked onto the porch. Her red hair was twisted back into a bun, but several short, fine tendrils fluttered around her elegant neck and in front of her ears. His heart jolted. The image of her on the steps of his house filled his chest with pride. Skeeter laid an arm on Buffalo Killer's. “I've entered your teepee, shared a meal with your family. Please come share one with mine."
"Wife?"
"Yes, we're married."
"I wanted."
"But I said you can't have her.” Skeeter grinned, knowing the man was teasing. “Besides you already have a wife."
Buffalo Killer shrugged.
A serious, raw strain pulled at his throat. Skeeter lowered his voice, though Lila still stood on the porch, he didn't want the wind to carry his words. “The man from the future wants to kill Lila."
Buffalo Killer's head snapped about quickly. He squinted then gave a nod of determination. “I eat.” His black eyes grew darker with anger. “Then we find future man. Scalp him."
Skeeter couldn't ignore the shudder that raced across his shoulders. This time he knew the brave wasn't kidding.
Lila smiled as Skeeter and Buffalo Killer walked up the porch steps. She held out one hand. “Hello, Buffalo Killer. It's good to see you again.” The Indian no longer frightened her, and she was happy to see him again. She felt so recharged with happiness this morning she could rival the Energizer bunny.
The Indian looked at her hand for a moment before he patted his chest with one of his thick palms. “Buffalo Killer.” A finger pointed to her. “Badland Woman.” Then he took her hand in both of his. “Friends."
She glanced toward Skeeter, lifted a brow in question. “Badland Woman?"
He nodded. “It's what he's decided to call you."
"Sheesh!” Snake who stood in the doorway behind her said. “Even she gets a good name."
She frowned in confusion, glanced toward the younger brother. Snake stomped back into the house, and as she turned to Skeeter he gave a slight chuckle. “What's that all about?” she asked.
"Nothing,” he said. “Buffalo Killer is joining us for breakfast."
"Oh, wonderful.” She waved an arm toward the door. “Come on in."
Buffalo Killer glanced toward Skeeter. “Big Teepee."
Skeeter laughed and wrapped an arm around her. If possible, her body swelled, feeling the huge, exciting, overwhelming sensation of his love. She snuggled her shoulder beneath his arm, fitting flawlessly against his side as they walked into the house.
The meal became a festive time. Buffalo Killer enchanted the entire family, and by the time breakfast ended he'd renamed every one of them. Hog gleamed with pride as Buffalo Killer thanked ‘Cooks with Pride', and Snake even cracked a smile when he was referred to as ‘Earth Man.'
When the dishes were cleared, and the men began strapping the holsters to their hips, Lila grasped Skeeter's arm, a cold sweat tickling her skin. “What are you doing? Where are you going?"
The room grew quiet. He glanced about, before guiding her into the living room. “Buffalo Killer's men found the man who might be responsible for hurting Bug. We're going to his camp."
Her knees began to tremble. She grabbed his waist for support. Could it be Pete? Her breath grew shaky. “Don't go. You don't have to go. Let the others go. You stay here."
He took her shoulders, held her steady. “Honey, I can't do that. I have to go.” One finger hooked beneath her chin, lifted her face to look at him. “Don't worry, Joe and some of the cowhands will still be here. You're safe."
"It's not me I'm worried about. It's you. What if something happens—"
"Don't worry. Nothing is going to happen to me."
Tears burnt her eyes. “Promise me. Promise me, you'll come back."
"Of course I promise. I'll come back safe and sound."
She glanced to the doorway. The brothers, Kid, Snake, and Hog as well as Buffalo Killer stood, waiting for Skeeter. They were a formidable bunch. Reminded her of a group of men she'd seen starring in a western movie. Wyatt Earp or some such show. They looked rough and mean, but didn't scare her in the least. She raised a finger, pointed at them. “You all better make damn sure nothing happens to him."
Shocked gazes covered their faces.
"Nothing better happen to any of you.” She lifted her chin, met their stares straight on. “You got that?"
"Yes, ma'am,” Hog and Snake answered.
"We'll take care of him, Lila,” Kid responded.
"See that you do."
"Badland Woman fierce,” Buffalo Killer stated.
Jessie and Stephanie Quinter came to stand beside her. Skeeter kissed her lips, a short quick peck, before he kissed his mother's cheek and patted Jessie's. Then he turned and nodded at Buffalo Killer. “All of the Quinter women are."
Lila would have followed him out the door, but Ma Quinter touched her arm, a soft but controlling touch. She glanced to Jessie. The woman gave a slow shake of her head. Understanding rang clear. The men had to leave, and the woman had to stay behind, strong and solid. She folded her arms across her chest. “They better take care of him. If he comes back with one scratch on his head there's going to be hell to pay."